Perhaps, Perhaps
by Lucy Barker
Summary: Olive-centric, Ned/Chuck. Olive still pines for Ned, but is there a chance for romance in her near-future? Rated T for thematic elements and some violence. Update: Chapter Eight is here!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** As much as I would like it, I do not own any of the characters or plotlines of "Pushing Daisies." The setting for this story takes place after the events of season one, but as season two has just gotten its start, I will not be involving any of the events of the upcoming episodes. The only episode notes I will take into consideration are background revelations that add to character development. I hope everyone enjoys my story, and feel free to review. Thank you. (10/08/2008)

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Olive Snook was the kind of woman who wanted everything that she couldn't possess. As a child, she begged her parents for a Great Dane. When she became a teenager, she longed to be a part of the popular crowd at school. And as a grown woman, she pined for the pie maker. Yet there was always at least one permanent obstacle that would prevent Olive from getting what she wanted. Sometimes the issue was money, there was no room for the object, maybe the assumed "obnoxious squeaking of her voice." In the case of her affections for Ned the Pie Maker, they were lost and forgotten compared to the love he shared with the girl named Chuck.

Olive tried to catch Ned's attention with stylish hairdos, spraying perfumes, running his errands, and obvious hinting through body language and dialogue. But it was of no use. Even though he could never touch her, Ned could only see and hear was a tall and beautiful brunette. Never mind that Chuck had her share of secrets, but perhaps it was her mysterious nature that enticed him. But being mysterious was never one of Olive's strong suits. In fact, her only gift seemed to be an involuntary ability to become invisible.

"Olive?" a familiar voice called to her. She turned her head to look into the sad eyes of Ned. His eyes were always so sad…

"Are you alright?" His brow was furrowed in such a way that it seemed as if he were truly worried about her. She found this expression flattering and gave one of the sweetest smiles ever known.

"I'm fine," she said. His look of worry did not go away.

"Well, you might want to turn off the espresso machine before you burn your hand."

Olive's grin faded and she immediately turned her attention to the coffee cup she had been filling for a customer. It was beginning to overflow with hot coffee that miraculously had not scalded the hand holding it. She squealed in alarm and quickly forced the lever into the "off" position. Ned was still standing behind her and saw the left side of his mouth curl down. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep," Olive practically yelped.

"Okay…" said Ned. "Just be more careful next time."

"Sure, yeah. Totally going to be safe." This statement was said quickly, with a fervent nod and a smile that Olive hoped hid her embarrassment. And with a nod and what seemed to be a half-smile, the Pie Maker made his way back to the kitchen where Chuck was waiting to assist him with his baking. Envy and sorrow stirred within Olive as she noticed from afar how Ned flashed a bright full-smile with Chuck. How could it be that he would rather have someone he could never hold than someone who had tried time and time again to hold him? The annoyed customer who had ordered the cup of coffee she nearly lost a hand for broke her concentration, and thus she returned to her duties and faked pleasantries as any experienced waitress learns to do.

But Olive Snook would not have to feign true happiness for long. For two men of unrelated quests would be crossing paths with the employees of the Pie Hole in the very near future. And one of these men would be returning to Olive to once again repair what was once broken.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is driving me insane!" whispered Olive. "I know that Ned is completely involved in Chuck's very existence and that I don't stand a chance, but I want to scream at how ridiculous he's being. 'Aw, Ned, that's so sweet. You love her, but you can't touch her. I won't stand in your way.' But I've been trying to get his attention for as long as I've been working here and all of a sudden in walks his childhood sweetheart! And I'm sick of it! I'm just sick of it! I feel like I'm going to explode and scream at the top of my lungs, 'I was here first, you brown-haired skank! And hey moron, you can touch me all you like!" Olive took a breath or two to calm down and looked across the table at the confidante to whom she had relayed all her anxieties/

"Why are you talkin' to me?" asked Emerson Cod, who was clearly trying to enjoy his apple pie a la mode.

"Listen, I would love to find someone who was a little more sardonic than you, but since you come in here all the time I figured that I would make use of my resources!"

"You know, I thought I just heard an amateur attempt at sarcasm. It's funny how much it sounds like a plane crash." Emerson topped off his comment with a smug smile and a bite of his frozen dairy-doused pie. Temporary victory was indeed sweet.

Olive Snook felt a fire burning inside of her. Hopefully the heat would spread across the table and set the overweight detective ablaze… or at the very least melt the ice cream on this pie. "You have no idea what this is like for me."

"You don't know nothin'," said Emerson. "Here you are talking to someone that obviously doesn't care about an issue that you're never going to solve. And do you know why? Because there ain't nothing to solve." He pointed in the direction of the kitchen where Ned and Chuck were making pies. "He wants her, she wants him, and there ain't nothin' that's gonna stop them. Not you, not me, and definitely not the lack of touchin'."

Olive stared at the two forbidden lovers in the kitchen and watched them smiling and talking. She knew exactly what was happening. They were in love, and they were declaring their love, and they were laughing about the silly waitress who yearned for the affection of her boss. At least, that was her broken heart's convinced opinion. In reality, the conversation of the Pie Maker and the girl named Chuck went like this:

"My turn. Favorite movie?" asked Chuck.

"_Star Wars_," Ned replied as he brought molding fruit back to life out of the viewing range of the customers.

"Which one?"

"All of them on the same level for very different reasons. Mainly because it's awesome. Same question to you."

"_Casablanca_. I love the old classics."

"What about _Citizen Kane_?"

"Eh, it's too ambitious for me. Favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Vanilla."

"Can you get any more boring?"

"My favorite color is gray and my favorite day of the week is Monday. And I could show you my stamp collection later." Ned's joke brought a smile to Chuck's face, but she still took the opportunity to take her towel and gently whip him on the arm.

From afar, Olive was only able to see the towel-whip and her mouth dropped. Chuck was playfully flirting with Ned! This was awful, terrible, and just plain sad…

"Aren't you supposed to be workin'?" asked the distant voice of Emerson Cod.

"I was taking a ten," she said distantly.

"You've been sitting for nearly twenty minutes, and as much as I'd like to mock you all night long, I'd like to enjoy what's left of my pie in silence."

"Have you seen the amount of people in here?" asked Olive. Emerson looked around at all five people in the Pie Hole, all of whom had been served and eating, or finished and working on a crossword puzzle. "Besides, it's only an hour to close," Olive continued. "If someone walks in within the next hour—which I highly doubt—then I'll get back to work."

"Olive?"

Olive froze at the sound of her name. She knew that voice. She had been dreaming of that voice when she wasn't dreaming of Ned's.

_You look decidedly unhappy_, it once said. She turned around to gaze upon an old friend in a familiar brown suit and a case large enough to carry dozens of herbal anti-depressants.

"'Fredo?"


	3. Chapter 3

Six months, seventeen days, two hours, and forty-two minutes after traveling the country with his homeopathic remedies, Alfredo Alderisio decided it was time to return to the Pie Hole. He had his share of success on his travels as well as the occasional door slam in his face, but he found that what he craved most was the company of the waitress named Olive. He regretted leaving her the moment he exited the doors of the little pie-shaped diner, but he had a duty to serve millions of people who were depressed and depraved. And now he had returned, and stood before Olive and the large and intimidating man eating apple pie across from her.

Alfredo had thought of what he would say to Olive the moment that he locked eyes with her. Speeches and poems and direct yet meaningful phrases were rehearsed in his car during his long trip back to the Pie Hole. Words of pure and true love filled his heart and mind, and they danced on the tip of his tongue waiting to be released into the air. And then Alfredo spoke…

"You look well," he said. Sadly, his self-consciousness stepped in the way of his romantic thoughts, and he berated himself on the inside while he smiled to hide his own mistake.

"So do you," Olive replied. She took a moment to realize how little he had changed despite the time that had gone by. His beard was still trimmed, his hair styled the exact same way, and she began to wonder if he owned any other suits aside from his trademark tweed. Nonetheless, he also looked well. Very well, she admitted to herself.

"Well, look at that," said Emerson Cod. "You got yourself a customer. And within the last hour of business, too. Hmmm…" He took another bite of his pie as Olive gave him a dirty look. She looked back at Alfredo and put on her usual business smile. She stood up and went to stand one foot, five inches, and seven centimeters in front of him.

"I'm guessing you might want a macchiato," Olive said.

"Actually, no," Alfredo answered.

"Oh," she said. "How about an espresso?"

"No, thank you—"

"Really? You don't want anything? Latte? Coffee? Hazlenut flavored coffee? Pie?"

"I-I don't think so. I just got into town and I'm going to need some sleep, so I think that the caffeine might affect that. Thank you, though."

"Okay… we have decaf, though."

"Honestly…" Alfredo began, hoping that the words he intended to say earlier would finally come out. "I, um, when I came in… I just wanted… I mean, I-I had thought about… What I'm trying to say is that I…. wanted… to see you…" It was close enough for the time being.

Olive's eyebrows raised in astonishment. "You wanted to see me?" she asked.

"Well, to see how you were doing. It has been a long time since I've seen you, and I thought I might check in." Alfredo Alderisio was not as articulate as he wished to be on this particular day.

But Olive was flattered by his rambling. If his friendship with her meant that much, then she would welcome it. "Thanks, 'Fredo. I'm glad you stopped by."

Alfredo grinned sheepishly. He missed hearing her say the shortened version of his name.

"Are you sure you don't want anything while you're here?" she asked again.

"I'm fine, I promise. Again, thank you."

"No problemo, 'Fredo," she said. She began laughing and when she realized that Alfredo didn't understand the joke, she stopped. She thought she might have heard Emerson clearly say something along the lines of "it can't get any dumber than that," but she ignored it completely.

"Well," said Alfredo, "I guess I'll be going now."

"Okay then, bye."

"Okay, bye."

And with that, Alfredo left the Pie Hole and drove away in his car. Olive still stood in the same spot where she conversed with the salesman and contemplated their brief and awkward conversation. It felt good to see him, and it felt so right to talk to him. She began to fantasize as she did sometimes about Alfredo entering the doors and asking her out to dinner, dancing with him under the stars, and then a passionate moment where their lips met in a—

"Olive?" called Ned.

"Yeah, Ned?" she said as she turned her head and placed her full attention on the Pie Maker.

"I know it's almost close, but that doesn't mean that we stop working before that," he stated sternly in an I-don't-mean-to-be-rude-but-I'm-your-boss-and-I-have-to-be-stern-with-you kind of way.

"Oh, okay. Sorry." She watched him intently as he gave a quick nod and went back into the kitchen.

She completely adored him.

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**Author's Note:** Woo-hoo, Alfredo is back! And all the while Olive is completely oblivious and yet subconsciously aware of her own feelings. Next chapter will continue this predicament soon...


	4. Chapter 4

Since Alfredo's return, he had spent every morning going into the Pie Hole and ordering a cup of coffee before leaving on his rounds to perform door-to-door sales or checking on customer satisfaction. And it was always Olive Snook who served him his daily cup of caffeinated beverages. Even though he was a regular customer, Alfredo did not have a usual order. Instead he would try something he had not ordered the day before, and even though he may not have enjoyed some of his choices, he still took pleasure in the fact that he had tried something different. Trying to avoid patterns and routine was something his childhood therapist would encourage him to do in order to steer clear of his own version of chaos, but that was not the important point of this moment. What was important was that even though he knew nothing of it, Olive had also grown fascinated with his own version of adventure and risk-taking and realized she rarely talked to the traveling salesman. And so, two weeks and three days after his return, young Olive decided that she would finally take action.

"Do you mind if I take my hour break?" she asked her boss.

"Olive, we just opened an hour ago," said Ned.

"I forgot to eat this morning."

"I'm pretty sure I saw you eating a banana and a toaster pastry on the way down the stairs…" If there was one thing Ned was good at other than pie making, it was noticing detail.

"I think you're imagining things," retorted the waitress.

"Sorry, Olive," said the girl named Chuck as she wiped her hands of the flour covering her hands. "I'm gonna have to side with Ned on this one—I saw you eating this morning too."

Olive kept eye contact with Ned, but made sure that her message was heard by both of them in her firm and aggressive voice. "Look," she said, "I am hungry and really cranky. So I'll have to insist on a second breakfast if you want me to be happy-smiley around our customers." Ned and Chuck's expressions were not fazed by her words at all, and Olive felt her confidence slipping.

"Second breakfast?" asked Ned. "Are you a hobbit now?"

Confidence was officially gone, and Olive replaced it with her usual desperate pleas.

"Ned, please. I'm starving." And then Olive did something she had been doing since she was four-years-old that increased her chances of getting what she wanted. She tilted her head and puckered her lips in such a way that she looked lie the saddest and sweetest creature on the face of the Earth. Ned looked at her and exhaled through his nose. He was all too familiar with this face, and he knew that she would never give in until he gave her what she wanted. At the thought of being defeated by his friend's "sad face," he smiled.

"All right, but only thirty minutes instead of the full-hour. I want you to be able to have a lunch later in the day, and that's going to have to be thirty minutes too. Is that alright?"

Olive smiled and waved her hands in the air. "Yay," she said, and with that she took a recently completed blueberry pie off the rack and left the kitchen.

"That was really nice of you, Ned," said Chuck.

"Why did she take one of my pies?"

"She said she was hungry. And you can just take that out of her paycheck if you feel—"

"She never takes one of my pies. She usually goes down the block to get a turkey sandwich and then reads a magazine before coming back."

"Maybe it's because she felt like she didn't have enough time."

They both turned to look in the direction where Olive stopped and stood over a surprised Alfredo Aldarisio. It was easy enough to read their lips and actions even though their voices were close to muted in the kitchen. Olive was smiling and asked the salesman if he would like some blueberry pie as well as some company. Alfredo, pleasantly shocked, let an excited smile spread over his face and his lips made the shapes that formed a 'yes, please.' Chuck's smile grew while Ned became more confused.

"That's so precious," Chuck said.

"Is that why she took one of my pies?"

"She's just being friendly, Ned."

"I would understand that if I knew who he was, but I don't know who he is and I've never seen him before, therefore she couldn't know who he is."

"His name is Alfredo Aldarisio and he's a traveling salesman."

Ned's brow furrowed at how Chuck's statement was so matter-of-fact. How did she know him? Ned couldn't help but speak his mind. "How do you know him?"

Chuck could have told him the truth about the pies she had been making for her aunts and how she was using Mr. Aldarisio's sample pack to drug the pies. But instead, she chose to lie. "I'm just really observant," she said.

Ned was somewhat curious about her answer, but accepted it for the moment and turned his attention back to Olive and this new friend of hers as they were chatting over the blueberry pie. "I don't trust that guy. He looks suspicious."

Chuck giggled. "What makes you think he's suspicious?"

"It could be his demeanor, the mysterious glint in his eye—"

"How can you see the glint in his eye? You can't even see the color of his eyes from over here."

"Okay, so maybe it's the beard and the suit."

"Maybe he looks suspicious just because he's an attractive guy, you're protective of me and Olive for your own respective reasons, and you want him to be suspicious."

"No, for the most part it's the beard." Ned suddenly caught on to a single word Chuck had said and turned to her. "Do you think he's attractive?"

"I said he's _an_ attractive guy, just like you're an attractive guy."

"What makes me different from that attractive guy? Or any other attractive guys, for that matter?"

"The other guys wouldn't be willing to stick around if they couldn't touch me, and I don't want stick around with anybody else but you."

Ned smiled. "I like that answer."

Chuck smiled back at the Pie Maker, and when Ned went to fetch a fresh batch of pies from the oven, she watched Olive and Alfredo. There were three separate thoughts that ran through her head. One was of the low dosage of homeopathic remedies that she needed to get more of to create more pies for her depressed aunts. The second was of the happiness that Olive had found a friend in someone who was also fond of her and connected with her. And the third, though it was small and something she would not find important until later, was the envy for the potential of Olive and Alfredo's relationship that was uninhibited by any limitations.

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**Author's Note**: So we have a nice little Chuck and Ned scene here today. Ned's feeling a little bit odd about Alfredo's presence--there may be some jealousy involved there. And then there's Chuck who is as sweet as can be, but is keeping a few secrets from Ned. We'll see how this will develop in future chapters. Chapter five will go into some more Alfredo/Olive and also introduce a new element to the story.


	5. Chapter 5

Meanwhile, Olive Snook was making the most of her thirty minutes with Alfredo Aldarisio. The conversation was purely focused on his travels, and the format of the dialogue was as followed: Olive would ask a question, Alfredo would answer and elaborate with a story, and Olive would then react positively or negatively and then ask another question. It was a cycle that worked well and kept the air free of any awkward silences that often entered in on her talks with Ned. Both parties were full of life as they went on with this routine and covered a good portion of their six months apart within a limited time span.

"So this customer was afraid of electricity?" asked Olive. "Was she Amish?"

"Oh no, she was as modern as could be," answered Alfredo. "But her phobia entailed that she could attract any form of electricity because our bodies can act as conductors of electrical currents. It caused her a great deal of distress, especially during lightening storms."

"Well, no offense, 'Fredo, but I don't understand why people choose to rely on drugs for their problems rather than going to shrinks."

"But they have. For very many cases—not the majority, but still many—therapy of any kind simply assists in finding the solution to the issue, and that's only so much. And experiences of phobias and depression can still occur outside the office of a professional licensed psychotherapist. And it's much worse with psychiatrists! They'll keep handing you drugs that were uncaringly shipped out of a factory that come with multiple side effects and it's often that they won't get the prescription right the first few times. That's why I've devoted my life to my remedies. I believe that there needs to be a special balance for those who are determined to overcome their fears and anxieties, with as little repercussions as possible and an immediate guarantee of normalcy." His words were spoken at an extremely quick pace; with an emphasis of personal feeling and no trace of any need for breathe from start to finish. Olive was stunned by his speech and felt the urge to say something in return.

"Oh… well, good for you," said Olive. She cringed at the thought that those were the only words that she could come up with after his very personal speech, and she tried to make up for it with a forced smile. Alfredo ducked his head a bit, and poked at the piece of pie that was still left on his plate.

"Sorry, I get a little overexcited about this. I'm just very passionate about my work."

Olive relaxed when she realized he was just as embarrassed as she was and reassured him, "I think that's a good thing, 'Fredo. No one should be unhappy with their job or lifestyle."

"Thank you," he said, smiling at her. She couldn't help but smile back.

"You're welcome. Seriously, I don't know how you do it. All that traveling… I definitely couldn't handle that."

"Oh, I think you'd be a fine traveler."

Olive shrugged. "Well," she said, "I wouldn't mind getting out of town for a week or two for a vacation. But I couldn't go without a place to call home for any longer than that. As much as I enjoy my job here, my favorite part of the day is walking up to my apartment and sleeping in my own bed and thinking how lucky I am that home and work aren't so far away from each other." She thought a moment after finishing that statement and then asked Alfredo a question that he had heard quite often. "Don't you get tired of traveling?"

"I'll be honest and say that it does get exhausting after a time, but if I stay in one place for too long, someone who needs my help might not be able to get it in time. I don't think I could abandon my duties like that."

Olive giggled, "You're like a little superhero, aren't you? You like to go off to save the day and before you can get a thank you, you're already on your way to save someone else, flying through the air with a red cape with a funny symbol on it."

Although it seemed like he was shy and bashful to Olive, Alfredo bent his head down to hide his expression of anxiety. The simple thought of flying through the air, which could lose its atmosphere at any moment, was enough to paralyze him momentarily. But there was this beautiful girl sitting across from him, and he wouldn't let his phobia take over him like it had before. "I just like helping people, that's all. And I'm by no means a superhero." His voice was quiet, and it definitely sounded like he was being modest as he could see Olive's expression was unfazed by his behavior.

"So what does that make you then?" she asked.

"I'm not sure… excuse me for just a second," he said.

He took out self-prescribed, self-made medicine and let a few blue droplets fall on his tongue. He let a few seconds go by before he looked up at Olive to apologize, but as soon as he said the word 'sorry,' she waved it off to signal that it was okay. He continued where the conversation had left off, this time with a calm sense of being. "Anyway, I don't know if there's an exact word for it. A word for what I am outside of a salesman, I mean."

"Yes, there is. And I know for a fact that it's not anything with a negative connotation like 'vagabond' or 'gypsy.' I'll let you know what it is as soon as I figure out what to call you that doesn't have a negative connotation."

"I'd like to hear it." He watched her smile coyly and turned her head away and noticed how her happy expression melt into an intimidated gaze at the sight of whatever she was looking at. He looked in the direction she was looking and saw a tall, thin man in a black shirt and apron staring down Olive from where he stood in the kitchen.

"Oooh… I have to get back to work," Olive said, and she began to scoot her way out of the booth.

"So soon?" asked Alfredo.

"My break has been split in half today—half now, half later. And I think I might have gone over my limit." She risked another look at her boss, whose stare had not let up since the last time she looked at him. To avoid the feeling of butterflies trying to escape her stomach and thus the possible wrath of the pie maker, she turned her attention back to the salesman. "Sorry I couldn't talk longer."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," said Alfredo, and then he thought of something else he could ask her before she went on her way to help other customers. "Um, actually, if you wanted to get together sometime to talk a little more…"

If Olive had not been so blinded by her love for Ned as well as the low self-esteem that came with his rejection of her feelings, she would have been able to see that Mr. Aldarisio had been trying to ask her out on a date. Until that realization occurred much later in this story, Olive would only see this as the chance for two friends to talk and gossip over coffee. Otherwise she wouldn't have said her words as nonchalantly and with as little feeling as she did.

"Oh, 'Fredo, that's really nice of you," she said. "But I don't think I'll be able to this week. I've got a lot of hours to fill here for the next couple of days."

"Oh... I see. Never mind, then." Alfredo tried to keep his smile in place, but it was difficult to keep it up due to his own rejected feelings.

"But I promise I will talk to you later. Okay?" She smiled at him when she said that, and Alfredo accepted that this was probably the closest he would get to a 'yes' for right now. So he took it.

"Okay," he said, his smile becoming a little more authentic at this moment.

He let Olive pick up the remnants of their meal and she went off into the kitchen. As he followed her fleeing figure, he caught another glimpse at the tall man in the black shirt, who still had not left his spot or the intensity of his stare. However, this time, the stare was fixed on Alfredo. And the only thing Alfredo could do was look back at him nervously until the Pie Maker's figure slowly turned and moved to the part of the kitchen where the customers could not see him.

Only a few minutes later, Emerson Cod walked through the door, a folded up newspaper under his arm and making a quick beeline towards the kitchen. Olive was the first one to take notice of him, and chose to be very courteous to him this morning.

"Morning, Emerson."

"I'm busy, Shorty," said the burly detective, never once looking at her as his destination to the kitchen was set. Olive snorted. _So much for courtesy_, she thought to herself.

Ned and Chuck did not get the chance to greet Emerson at all once he entered the kitchen.

"We got ourselves a job," he said.

Emerson threw the newspaper on the counter where it magically folded itself out for Chuck and Ned to see. According to the front page article that took up a good portion of the page, Felicia Fitz's body was found in a ditch outside of the town of Coeur d' Couers. What was curious about this case was that Ms. Fitz was stabbed only once through the heart, and then a few swift slashes across her torso read, "Tag, you're it." And thus Emerson Cod and his associates had been hired to solve the mystery of her very obvious murder.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Oh holy frak, that took a while. Sorry for the delay in getting the latest chapter up. Life gets in the way of the things you really need to work on. Anyway, the new chapter is mainly a dialogue piece and delving a bit into characters, so I hope you enjoy it despite lack of action thus far. Please continue to review and leave positive comments, and thank to those who have left them. And now, on to the chapter I've been working on for three or four months! :)

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Olive Snook found herself experiencing another dose of disappointment when Ned announced yet again that she would be in charge of the Pie Hole while he, Emerson Cod, and the girl called Chuck would go to inspect the body of the murdered Felicia Fitz. Olive had begun to grow tired of being left to her own devices, waiting on unruly customers and having to endure all of the closing duties on her own. She felt that if she was to occasionally participate in the solving of crimes, she should at least gain some experience in learning about the first few clues. And thus, she confronted him with these thoughts.

"Ned, why can't I come with you to see the body?" she asked.

Ned was opening the oven to take out two complete masterpieces of raspberry and pie crust as he spoke to her. "Someone needs to look after the Pie Hole, Olive."

"But I'm tired of being left alone to my own devices—"

"Any pie you need is always made before I leave in bulk," he cut her off.

"I wait on unruly customers—"

"I always leave during lulls in business. Or at least I try to."

"I have to endure all of the closing—"

"All you have to do is wipe down tables and put up chairs until Manuel comes in to polish the floors. You don't have to do everything by yourself whenever you close alone. When that happens, just wait for me to come back to help you with the dishes or leave them until morning."

"But—"

"Olive—"

Olive held up a hand to silence him. "Let me finish the sentence first."

"All right, go."

"I just think that if I'm going to help you with these cases occasionally, I should get a sense of how you go about getting clues for the case." Ned grew rigid, though his often agitated posture was lost on Olive. When he didn't respond immediately, she continued. "You know, it's kind of like reading the beginning of the book first before you get spoiled or confused by the end."

"But sometimes reading the end is how you decide if you're going to like the book," he said. "Sometimes the beginning of the book is slower, or cryptic, or just plain creepy. A lot of people stop reading the book if they don't like the beginning and they'll end up quitting altogether and refer to the book as devil spawn."

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I'm a little off on the metaphors today. Listen, I know you don't like being by yourself and I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't need your help with this part of the investigation."

Olive felt an overwhelming wave of emotions come over her, and very quietly, she asked a question that took on many meanings. "Will you ever need me?"

And the Piemaker, thinking only of the gift he must hide, unknowingly gave the answer to all of her questions. "Olive, there are just some things that people shouldn't see."

Olive's felt the muscles in her body release as sadness took over her. She looked down at her feet to hide her eyes that were beginning to sting with the threat of tears. "Oh," was all she could say.

Ned felt his own muscles relax, but not out of sadness. It was a combination of Olive's accepting nature concerning his privacy and the sympathy he felt for her when he told her she could not come with him to see the body. Perhaps he would be able to find a way to make it up to her, but for now, he needed her to help him. "Look, we're not going to leave for another hour or so. Why don't you grab some lunch before we leave?"

Olive nodded, and without a word, grabbed her coat and walked out of the front doors.

She usually enjoyed her trip to the Sandwich Shop Around the Corner, but she couldn't think straight. The clever sandwich designs of the booths and tile pattern, the friendliness of the manager Sally, the wondrous cacophony of taste that was borne of a custom-made sandwich—all was lost on her. She knew Ned didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that he didn't know she still had feelings for him, she knew he would never love her the way she loved him. Nor would he love her the way he loved Chuck. But it still hurt, and she was losing her battle against her hopeless, pointless tears. She wiped away any noticeable sign of sadness from her face, but carried it with her as she entered the store. The colors of the interior, normally bright with yellow and green and red, were muted by her emotions. And rather than Sally's cheerful nature or her employee Roberto (or Bobby), there was a strange little tanned, dark-haired boy standing at the register, and he could be no older than sixteen years exactly. But that didn't matter. All she cared to do right now was get her food, eat, and then leave to be abandoned yet again.

"Hi. One ham sandwich on wheat, toasted, no condiments, please."

The boy did not smile and go straight to work on her sandwich. He didn't even smile. In fact, it was as if Olive had not said anything at all. His only response was one, two blinks of the eye.

"Um… are you okay?"

The boy remained in his catatonic state. She was about to call for Sally to help her but then noticed the sign next to him that read, "Manager Out." Olive felt as if the entire world was turning against her, and was determined to have something go right.

"Hello? Hello?" Olive waved her hands in front of his face, repeating her order louder for all to her, pointing to her lips to make sure his attention was on what she was saying. She was making a complete fool out of herself for the sake of a sandwich.

"Olive?"

Olive froze in the position she was in, leaning over the counter, fingers pressed against her bottom lip, her mouth puckering as if she were a chimp begging for a banana. She knew that voice. She liked the sound of that voice. She slowly turned to find a dark haired man wearing a tweed suit and an inquisitive look. Olive jumped out of her embarrassing state and wrapped her arms around herself as if Alfredo had stumbled upon her in the shower.

"Alfredo! What are you doing here?"

"Um… I was planning on eating a sandwich."

"Well, good luck. I think this guy is a little out of it today." She snapped her fingers in front of the boy's face to check for consciousness, and he simply tilted his head slowly to the side. Alfredo moved to the counter and began to speak to the boy in a calm, patient tone.

"Excuse me? Sir?"

The boy remained silent. Then Alfredo, without a moment's notice, leaned over the counter to look into the boy's slightly glossed over eyes.

"Habla español?" he asked. Olive's brow furrowed in confusion and she turned her attention to the boy to watch his reaction.

"Si…" The boy sounded as if he were a zombie. A very young, pimply-faced, dazed, and quite possibly doped-up zombie.

What had occurred was that this boy was a new employee at the Sandwich Shop Around the Corner, namely a busboy. She would give instructions to the busboy via Bobby, who served as a translator as well as an assistant manager. When Sally discovered that she had an emergency that involved her beloved cat and a bar of chocolate, she informed Bobby that he would be in charge of the shop until she managed to return. Bobby asked what he should do come his lunch hour, and Sally insisted that he take his lunch during the slowest hour of the day and, just in case, allow the busboy to stand at the register and put up the sign that said the manager was out. Bobby, albeit reluctantly, did exactly as he was told. And thus, Olive Snook found herself watching a known acquaintance and a teenage boy talking fluent Spanish together on her lunch break.

In the present, Alfredo turned his attention towards Olive. "What were you going to order?"

"Ham sandwich, wheat bread, toasted, no condiments." Olive's words were quick and emotionless, still taking in the fact that Alfredo had solved the mystery of the half-dead sandwich boy.

Olive watched Alfredo speak at an incredible speed, every sentence laced with the beautiful Spanish language, and the boy created two sandwiches at the same rate. One was the sandwich Olive had ordered, and the other was Alfredo's—a veggie sandwich with mustard and pepper, and what appeared to be traces of sliced jalapenos. Then the boy put them on two plates, mumbled what could have been the price for the sandwiches, and pushed the plates towards Alfredo.

"Gracias," said Alfredo, and before Olive could protest, he paid for both his and her sandwiches.

The boy shrugged in the same zombie-like manner.

"'Fredo, thank you for your help, but you didn't have to pay," said Olive.

"No, it's my pleasure." Alfredo held Olive's sandwich in front of her, and she looked up at him before reaching over to take the plate.

"That's really nice of you. Thank you so much." Her hands took the plate and her fingertips accidentally brushed Alfredo's hand. It was as if electricity suddenly shocked the pair of them and they both took a tiny step away from each other.

"It's nothing, really." He was smiling brightly, pleased with the contact his hand had with Olive Snook. Olive, on the other hand, felt extremely confused about the reaction and could not place what emotion had taken over her so suddenly. But rather than find an escape to find out in solitude, she chose to take another route.

"Um… are you doing anything right now?" she asked.

"Well, I was considering eating the sandwich I just bought, but so far that's the only interesting thing I have going on right now."

Olive laughed. "Sorry, of course! I mean, of course you're going to eat the… sorry, somehow I didn't process… let me start over. What I meant to ask was if you would like to join me for lunch so that we can talk for a little bit? If you have time, that is."

Alfredo grinned at her. "I'd like that."

Olive smiled back. "Okay."

Alfredo motioned to a booth where they could sit, and Olive gave a small curtsy before sitting down. Alfredo sat across from her and all interest in his sandwich was gone.

"Wait… you weren't in the Pie Hole this morning, were you?" she said.

"I was visiting some old customers of mine. Checking in on satisfaction with my products, refilling necessary prescriptions, stuff like that."

"Sounds like you had a busy morning."

"The day's not over for me yet. As soon as I'm finished eating, I'll be seeing other customers until six o'clock tonight."

"So, I guess that means no visit to the Pie Hole today?"

"Probably not," he said. Olive felt something within her drop. Was it her heart, or the bite of the sandwich she had just taken?

"Completely off-topic, but where did you learn to speak Spanish?" she asked.

"I can't remember a time when I didn't speak it."

"Really? You grew up learning the entire Spanish language?"

"Was the name Alfredo Aldarisio not a dead giveaway?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so—"

"No, no, I apologize, I didn't mean for that to sound rude. I've just been exposed to so many people who automatically assume that I'm… Anyway, it's refreshing to meet someone who doesn't make any judgments."

"Refreshing…" she repeated, bobbing her head as if the word were a piece of music and she was analyzing the beat. "I like that."

"It's strange that this came up. I was actually thinking about home this morning."

"Where's 'home?'"

"Well, for the longest time, my so-called home has been the road. But if ever I need a place to go and remember who I am, I always go back to the home I was raised in. You see, I was born in Texas, right next to the border and I was raised in a house that my mother still lives in to this day."

"What about your father?"

Alfredo shifted uncomfortably, and Olive immediately realized that she tread on unpleasant territory. "Actually, my father passed away a year ago."

Her eyes widened at this discovery. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know." She wanted to add 'I'm such an idiot, please, please forgive me,' but Alfredo shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. Anyway, my mother was born in Mexico as Ana-Maria Consuela Evita Aldarisio, and my father is—um, was very much a Caucasian Texas rancher named David Jones."

"Did your mother keep her last name? I mean, if you're last name is Aldarisio and not Jones."

"Well, my mother was never traditional. In fact, she's possibly the most rebellious, liberal Catholic you'll ever meet. She took on the name Jones, but to the shock of her family, she hyphenated it. Her logic was that Jones was a terrible end such a beautifully crafted string of names. And Alfredo Jones doesn't necessarily have a ring to it either, so I chose to keep my mother's name."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"I have two brothers and three sisters."

"Oh… wow. That's quite a family."

"Oh yes. And I was a middle child too, so if you can imagine that…"

"Oh, I've heard about that. I've heard that being born the middle child has always been a little tough."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I was an only child." Olive suddenly saw her childhood of parental neglect flash before her eyes like a movie montage on speed. "But I'm a very boring person. Tell me more about your family. Let's talk about how you learned Spanish like I wanted to know earlier."

"We had a rule in our home. When we were at school and playing outside, we could speak English. That way our, quote, 'gringo buddies' would know when a baseball was heading their way. But whenever we set one foot into the house, we could only speak Spanish—no exceptions whatsoever. And if our mother found out—and she always did—she made sure that our lives miserable for at least a week. What was nice was that it was usually my dad who suffered more often than any of us did. It made us feel a little bit better."

"Your dad didn't know any Spanish?"

"Only a few phrases, like 'hello,' 'where's the bathroom,' and 'I'll have a beer, please.' Things like that. He learned more as the years went on. My mother was the same way with English—couldn't understand most of what my father was saying in the beginning."

"That must have been difficult. I can't imagine managing a marriage and family when they didn't speak the same language."

"I remember asking my dad when he knew that my mother was the one. He said that when they met, he said that there weren't any fireworks or trumpets or sparks or anything like that—only her. He told me that the day I meet someone, if something triggers a connection whether it be with a single word or a look, that's how you know you found something special. But he added that when every cliché about sounds or special effects flies out the window and your only focus is on her, that's when you know you've found the one. That's how I—"

Alfredo stopped mid-sentence, realizing that he almost shared too much with Olive at too soon a time. He let out a nervous snort and returned to his story, "Anyway, he just said that knew that even if they couldn't understand a word of what the other said. A month after meeting her, he proposed and she moved with him to Texas and became a U.S. citizen. He always said that he felt so lucky when he discovered that bending down on one knee and holding up a ring meant the same thing in every language. Then right after that they began a family, and he gave up ranching and got another job to help pay the bills."

Olive was smiling and had her hand pressed to her beating heart. "That's so romantic. Finding your soulmate in that way, despite any differences and then getting living a happy life and having a family."

"It definitely resulted in some high standards I set for myself, that's for sure."

"Do you speak from personal experience?"

"Well, it's kind of silly, but I kind of tried to convince a little German girl to marry me when I was six."

"Did she say 'nein?'" she giggled, amused with her own joke. Alfredo smiled back and answered her.

"No, she just stared at me confusedly and I ended up with a black eye from the doll she hit me with."

"Ouch."

"That's what I said."

"I suppose that can scar a little boy's ideals for relationships."

"I wouldn't say that," he said, looking down and smiling. He looked so shy, as if he were hiding a gift that he wanted to keep secret until the perfect moment. Olive was taken in, but the strange transition from frustration with Ned to a bubbly, happy feeling with Alfredo Aldarisio within less than an hour was too much for her. Way too much, way too soon. Thus, she checked her watch and decided to find that excuse to escape for the moment.

"I should probably get back to work. I have to watch the Pie Hole while my boss goes off to play detective."

"I thought your boss was a pie maker?"

"Um… he's kind of a part-time… you know what, it's a long story that even he hasn't told me yet, so you don't have to worry that much about it."

Alfredo's lips pursed and his eyebrows rose slightly, making the quintessential picture of someone who was lost and confused but willing not to dwell on the details. "I'll take your word for it."

"I'm really glad I ran into you today, 'Fredo."

"Me, too."

"Alright. And if you need an incentive to stop by the Pie Hole—not that you have to—I've got a cup of coffee waiting for you at the Pie Hole. Whatever you want, whenever you want it, it's on the house. If you can make it tonight that would be nice, but it's redeemable at any time, of course."

"You don't have to do that Olive."

"No, please, I'd like to repay you for what you did for me today. Besides, it would be nice to talk to you some more."

That same sweet, irresistible grin swept across Alfredo's face. "Alright," he said. "I'll try to come by."

"Tonight?" asked Olive.

"Tonight," Alfredo said with a nod.

With that, Olive said her goodbyes and made her way back to the Pie Hole. Excitement and giddiness surged through her body, warming her blood and creating little butterflies in her stomach. She knew this feeling somehow, but she put the thought in the back of her mind to focus the responsibilities that running a restaurant on one's own would be hers very, very soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry I haven't updated. I've just been so busy with personal stuff, and I'm actually procrastinating on some required work to write this short little chapter. I promise I'm trying to stay on top of it, and I've been thinking about this story. Life just, y'know, gets in the way. Anyway, thank you for all of your positive comments, I truly enjoy reading them and I will write the next chapter ASAP. Even if it takes me three months to do it. *wink*

* * *

The Pie Hole was bare with the exception of a few customers here and there, and Olive Snook busied herself with wiping the counter. In her mind, she imagined what it would be like to join Ned and Emerson on their little mystery expeditions, examining the murder victims and searching for any clues or tell-tale signs about the case. Of course, she would say something brilliant, and Ned would smile at her softly as Emerson praised her with positive comments that were completely out-of-character, but definitely nice to here. And where was Chuck in this fantasy? Oh yes, in the Pie Hole wiping down the counter. Pouting. Olive's daydreams were a wonderful place to be.

She heard the ring of the doorbell and looked up to see that Ned, Chuck and Emerson had returned. She smiled brightly, threw the towel over her shoulder, and leaned over on the counter. "So, what did you find?" she asked.

The three of them looked between each other, and there seemed to be a combined emotion of confusion and disappointment. Olive continued smiling, but she shrugged her shoulders in surrender. "Okay, what? What's going on?"

Chuck, as always, was the one that opened up. "There's nothing to go on."

Olive's smile washed away. "Huh?"

"No clues, no tip-offs, no witnesses… nothing."

Chuck pulled Olive to the side and told her another version of the facts, which were these: The three detectives had visited the coroner's office to proceed with their usual routine. Ned would touch the body, discuss in one minute who had killed young Felicia and ask for last requests, Ned would touch her again, and they would go in search of solving the case. However, when Ned touched Felicia, it was quickly revealed that along with the message inscribed in her stomach, her tongue had been cut out of her mouth. After much arguing about what they could possibly do, Ned touched Felicia again without gaining any information about who would do this to her.

"Oh my goodness…" Olive said. "So, this poor girl has been stabbed, mutilated with a message, and her tongue was cut out."

"I'm afraid so."

"So this is probably going to become—"

"A cold case. It looks like it."

"I can't believe it. And there's nothing we can do?"

"We can try. But sometimes nothing can be resolved."

"But still… that poor girl."

"I know."

Silence passed between them for a few moments, and their thoughts were focused on the girl whose death would not be justified like it deserved. They didn't even pay attention to the door opening, the bells welcoming the arrival of a new customer, or even Ned's offer of service. Only a nearby voice broke the spell.

"Olive?"

Olive eyes snapped up and looked into the face of a concerned Alfredo.

* * *

You see, short. But I'm getting the plot moving along finally, so be prepared for more plotty stuff as well as character development. Until next time!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Finally back with another chapter. Thank you for your feedback, I'd love to hear more from you guys. I'll try to come out with another chapter soon. I'm really excited that things where things are headed in this story. Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

"Olive, are you alright?" asked Alfredo.

"Who's this fool?" asked Emerson.

Olive smoothed her skirt and attempted to smile as she made introductions. "Um… guys this is 'Fredo—erm, Alfredo Aldarisio. He's a friend of mine."

Alfredo smiled at the group, but it was returned with intense stares from the two men that slowly washed the salesman's smile away. Chuck looked down at the two men, then she smiled at the salesman and shook his hand.

"Hello, Alfredo."

"Don't you recognize me?" asked Alfredo.

Ned's stern focus on Alfredo immediately shifted over to his childhood sweetheart. "Chuck?"

Chuck's eyes averted both Ned's and Alfredo's gazes, but she addressed Alfredo. "Oh… no, I don't think so. I don't think we've ever met before. I just have one of those faces, I guess."

Alfredo's brow furrowed, but right before he could comment about his familiarity with his customer, Olive brought Ned into view.

"And this is Ned, my boss. And this over here is…"

As soon as Olive and Alfredo entered his gaze, Emerson turned around and made his way towards the men's restroom without a single word.

"…was Detective Emerson Cod."

"So, Alfredo," said Chuck, "would you be interested in a piece of pie? We have cherry, apple, strawberry, blueberry—"

"We have five minutes before closing time, so be quick," said Ned. It was a lie, for they had exactly two hours, thirty minutes and twenty-four seconds before they even began the closing process. Chuck elbowed him gently in the ribs for his lie.

"That's very kind, but no thank you. I actually came by to check on Olive."

"Oh, that's very sweet of you," commented Chuck. The salesman blushed, and the Pie Maker glowered.

Suddenly, a random thought came into Pie Maker's mind, and he didn't even attempt to hide the frantic and nervous look on his face.

"Excuse us," said Ned, and he rushed into the kitchen with a confused Chuck following him. Alfredo and Olive watched them go, curious as to what would make them run off.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Alfredo asked.

"No, no… it's just been a strange day, that's all."

"What happened?"

"Well, nothing happened to me personally, but just something from the news. You don't have to worry about it."

"Tell me anyway."

He motioned over to an empty booth where they could sit. Olive shyly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and she and Alfredo moved over to the booth. She was quiet for a few moments before she managed to find the words.

"Have you heard about the girl found murdered with the message on her stomach?"

"I think so, yes."

"Ned, Chuck and Emerson are working on the case and they just let me know that there are no leads to this case. Nothing for them to go on whatsoever. And um... I just..."

She couldn't get another word in beyond that. Olive pressed a hand to her mouth, a part of her afraid that merely letting out a breath would reduce her to tears. She didn't know this girl, and she had been a part of cases that had been just as horrifying. But with the murder of Felicia Fitz, something about what little she knew of it frightened her. There was no evidence, there were no witnesses, and there weren't any reasons for her to die. From what little was known, Felicia had been murdered simply for the fun of it, and her killer would roam free and nothing would be able to stop him or her.

Alfredo noticed Olive's emotional state, and he instinct told him to act, but with caution lest he should upset her further. Slowly, he slid his hand across the table and brushed the tips of her fingers with his own. Olive couldn't bear to look up at him, but she knew that he was looking at her. His need to comfort her and his concern warmed her heart and she allowed herself to grab his hand and hold it tightly.

"I don't want to sound needy or anything, but maybe… I would feel safer if you could walk me home?"

"Of course."

* * *

In the kitchen, the girl called Chuck wore an expression of shock and fear at what the Pie Maker just told her.

"How can that be possible?"

"There's no other explanation for it. I don't know how it happened, but somehow… I mean, why would anyone cut out the tongue of a girl who they plan on killing anyway, unless—?"

"Ned…"

"Someone knows, Chuck. Someone knows that I can bring people back to life."


End file.
